


And I might be okay (but I'm not fine at all)

by Band_obsessed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Idk where this fic came from tbh, M/M, Oops..., Taylor Swift (song), Zayn is barely mentioned...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band_obsessed/pseuds/Band_obsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a fit of irony, really. A bout of complete and utter irony how Louis’ ex boyfriend was somehow up on the stage singing a song by an artist Louis knew he always hated. A fit of irony how Harry’s stage fright was always too great to do anything with Louis but he coped fine on his own. A fit of irony about how Louis had been dragged to the club by Zayn, only to be stood up by his own best mate and left alone just as Harry started singing. It was as if the universe was jeering in his face and Louis felt like screaming or crying or just straight up laughing at how coincidental his life is.</p>
<p>Or:</p>
<p>The one where Louis breaks it off with Harry to set him free and six months down the line they both still aren't over it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I might be okay (but I'm not fine at all)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do NOT own One Direction OR any rights to Taylor Swift's song 'All Too Well'. All rights go to the respected artist/company.
> 
> Okay! I bring you another weird story that I just got inspired to write! I don't even know what this is, to be honest. Just... Enjoy! xx

It was a fit of irony, really. A bout of complete and utter irony how Louis’ ex boyfriend was somehow up on the stage singing a song by an artist Louis knew he always hated. A fit of irony how Harry’s stage fright was always too great to do anything with Louis but he coped fine on his own. A fit of irony about how Louis had been dragged to the club by Zayn, only to be stood up by his own best mate and left alone just as his ex boyfriend started singing. It was as if the universe was jeering in his face and Louis felt like screaming or crying or just straight up laughing at how coincidental his life is. Running his hands down his face, he pushed a hand through his stiff hair, quiffed up with gel and hairspray, fingers breaking the hold, strands falling down his forehead and into his eyes. Flicking them out of his vision, he grabbed a shot off of a tray that a waitress was carrying round, her skirt so high there was no point in even wearing one. Downing the drink in one, he sniffed and turned to face the stage, lights bright even from where he was standing, and listened to Harry, his Harry, sing. 

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,  
But something 'bout it felt like home somehow.  
And I left my scarf there at your sister's house,  
And you've still got it in your drawer even now.

His eyes welled with tears at the relevance of the song, remembering the autumnal night that he’d first introduced Harry to his family, all of them meeting at Lottie’s place, Harry in a burgundy jumper, sinfully tight jeans, those stupid boots he insisted on wearing everywhere and that checkered scarf that, just as the song illustrated, was buried deep in his clothes drawer, hidden underneath various tee shirts and trousers. It served as a memory of sorts, a painful reminder, of what he once had, what he lost.

 

Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze.  
We're singing in the car, getting lost Upstate.  
Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place,  
And I can picture it after all these days

Blinking back tears, Louis snapped his eyes shut, feeling the burning behind his eyelids, memories flashing in his mind making a horror movie feel like home, flashes of green meeting blue, clasped hands, soft voices, stop signs, yellow and brown and orange and red. Blinding smiles, happiness, freeze frames of everything they ever shared. He grabbed another drink, focusing on the burn in his throat instead of the burn behind his eyelids and took a deep breath, opening his eyes and fixating them on Harry.

And I know it's long gone,  
And that magic's not here no more,  
And I might be okay,  
But I'm not fine at all.

Gasping in a breath, Louis pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, relishing the dull ache, chest constricting, lump closing up his throat, head swimming. No. Three months. It had been three months since he last cried over Harry, six months since their breakup. He’d gone six months avoiding him and he would not cry now. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not here, not in front of Harry. No. He wouldn't give him that kind of power.

'Cause there we are again on that little town street.  
You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over at me.  
Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well.

Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red.  
You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin sized bed  
And your mother's telling stories about you on a tee ball team  
You taught me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me.

Louis laughed bitterly as images flooded his mind once more, cold afternoons, coffee cups, loud music, stoplights. Letting his head tip back, he rubbed his eyes, trying to snap himself out of it, remind himself that Harry broke it off as much as he did, that Harry promised him that he was going to be his future. For some reason, the thoughts didn't do anything to comfort him, only made him grab another shot, numbing the ache in his chest with the fiery burn of the drink.

And I know it's long gone  
And there was nothing else I could do  
And I forget about you long enough  
To forget why I needed to…

When he focused on Harry again, he froze completely, blood running cold, body trembling as he realised the green orbs were focused on him, staring him down, conveying pity, love, hurt, understanding. Sniffing, Louis furiously wiped his cheeks where a few stray tears had escaped, suddenly self conscious about how big his sweater was on him and the state of his hair, he probably looked a mess. A fucking mess compared to Harry how looked so happy, so at home, so bright. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. 

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night.  
We're dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light  
Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah.

His heart clenched painfully at the memory of the time Harry woke him up at midnight, eyes shining like two twinkling stars, smile playful as he took Louis’ hand, leading him downstairs and into the kitchen, two cupcakes on the counter, red icing and matching hearts.   
“It’s a metaphor, see, you take my heart and I’ll take yours.” Harry had explained, an a thousand wattage grin plastered to his face, dimples clear in the dim light, reminding Louis of a small child with the way his feet were pointed inwards slightly and his chocolate curls were ruffled, hands clasped to his chest in possibly the most adorable pose Louis had seen. 

Well, maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much,  
But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up.  
Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well.

Louis stood frozen in Harry’s gaze, completely paralysed as his voice conveyed such emotion that Louis had goosebumps rising up his arms and a stuttering heart. But that wasn't fair. He hadn't torn anything up. It was mutual, fucking mutual, they'd discussed it for fucks sake. He was trying to keep Harry happy, trying to set him free, let him go to university and have a good time, let him party and be wild and free. Letting him do whatever he wants without the weight of a boyfriend waiting for him back home. He just wanted him to be happy. But the boy singing the lyrics looked the opposite of happy, dark under eyes visible now as he stepped more into the light, the glow fading, replaced by an ugly sadness settling over his features, weighing down his shoulders, voice thick with emotion and Louis wanted to run to him, wanted to kiss it all away, hold him, slot all their broken pieces back together, be one again. 

Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise.  
So casually cruel in the name of being honest.  
I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here  
'Cause I remember it all, all, all... too well.

Louis couldn't stop the tears this time around, couldn't stop the sting in his eyes, couldn't blink away the blurriness, couldn't swallow down the lump. Tears sprung from his eyes and dripped down his cheeks like a faulty tap with a broken handle, tear after tear, sob after sob until his knees buckled and he slumped in the nearest seat, a few people shooting him worried glancing that he caught in his peripheral vision and shrugged off, refusing to do anything more than drown in his own self pity.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralysed by it  
I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it  
After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own  
Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

Harry’s voice kept singing on, each word, each note like a stab in the gut and a knife in his heart, a dagger in his back. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he couldn't do anything but hear, hear Harry’s sadness and hatred and know that he was the cause for them, know that he had broken what once shone so brightly, lost something he could never even hope to replace.

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week  
'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me  
You can't get rid of it 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah

Inhaling shakily, Louis wiped his cheeks futilely with his jumper sleeve, the fabric rough against his soft skin, only adding to the growing patches of red. He dared a look up and caught Harry’s eye, green meeting blue, both set of eyes blood shot and red, tears slipping out of them and streaming down their cheeks, an ache set heavy in their chests.

'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so  
Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known  
It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

The music slowed again, Harry’s voice growing softer and softer, Louis still held captive under his gaze as he watched the younger boy spill his heart out into the song, each note carrying a separate melody of pain, of sorrow, loss. Louis stood up slowly, gripping onto the counter top and trying to not let his knees buckle again, determined to stand strong.

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all  
Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all  
It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well.

He made his way down from the stage, eyes never leaving Louis’, microphone still clutched in hand. The crowd parted easily to allow him through, Harry’s voice becoming shakier and shakier as he approached the older boy, Louis looking like a deer caught in the lights of an oncoming bus, own hands shaking, tears sliding down his cheeks as he drank in ever last detail of Harry, from the way his hair framed his face, just sitting on his shoulders, slicked back slightly, his green eyes, darker in the dim light of the bar, body taller than ever, lankier too, hands just as big, jeans just as tight, top just as loose. If Louis tried really hard, he could imagine that nothing had changed at all, nothing was wrong, just another Saturday night at some bar and he’d finally convinced Harry to get up and sing and this song just happened to be playing at the time. As the last note was sung and the music stopped, Harry was nose to nose with Louis, both of them going cross eyed as they tried to look at each other, desperately trying to re memorise every detail that they’d forgotten, every little thing that had changed. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Louis croaked, body trembling, eyes red like that of a dying sun. He felt naked, bare even, in front of Harry, like he was somehow exposing every single flaw and insecurity, like all the broken pieces of himself were laid out in front of them both, shards of what they once were, of what they could be. Harry didn't reply, didn't do anything but gaze at the smaller boy stood in front of him, take in his battered form, watch how his head ducked down and he stared intently at the dirty bar floor, tracing some invisible pattern with his eyes. Cautiously reaching out a hand, he gently took Louis’ chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing their eyes back together, locked as one, blue and green, tan and pale, Hi and Oops, ship and compass, dagger and rose.

Harry leaned in, careful not to make any sudden movements, feeling as if the boy he was holding was made of glass, scared he’d break him if he spoke in a voice any louder than a whisper. He moulded their lips together, heart soaring as Louis kissed back, his smaller hands flying to his hair, one tangling in the locks of curls, the other one clutching his neck, pulling him closer, their bodies flush against each other. Harry held his waist, thumbs stroking the exposed strip of tan skin where his jumper had ridden up, nudging their lips against one another’s again and again. Pulling back slightly, he rested his forehead against Louis’, hands still tight against his waist, scared to let him go, to lose him again. Sobbing from what Harry believed to be happiness, relief and sorrow, the older boy burrowed into his chest, hands gripping his back, fisting the material of his shirt, breathing in his scent.

Leaning down, he whispered a reply to Louis’ earlier statement, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice thick and husky, raw and exposed, hurt yet forgiving;

“Me too.”

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Stay happy, darlings! Kudos and comments are appreciated more than you can imagine! xx


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